( sometimes hope can feel like a relic of a bygone era, fit for more hopeful or idealistic worlds than the one that they have all inherited by birth. but, by the same token... is not some twisted manner of hope at the essence of this world, of the City, of each and every company that dreams one day to rise to be a Wing? certainly many of them begin with the best of intentions, dreaming wildly of rewriting the slate of reality they have been given and providing people with better opportunities and a brighter future. but such a fragile ideal can only exist in harsh reality for so long before it's either crushed or corrupted.
given vague comments made by vergilius and some of the other sinners, dante thinks the person that they were before they lost their head and their memories likely had quite an opinion on this. but in this... reduced state that they are now — they just try to focus on the tasks at hand.
because motivation is a complicated thing for them. want is a complicated thing. at a most base level, they know they are not being given a choice — they had tried once to refuse to rewind time, and all it had earned them was very credible threats of violence that would provide a pain far worse (it's hard to imagine that's even possible, but they do not want to find out). but as they've gotten to know the sinners better and feel more personally responsible for them, they do want to learn to lead and manage them better, both for their shared goal but also for their safety and wellbeing. it would benefit all of them to succeed at securing the Golden Boughs, even if they know precious little of what the Company actually intends on doing with them. and, on a personal level that dante can't even begin to comprehend or put into words, they do want what faust had promised they'd be able to do — to engrave the Aspect. whatever that means.
so they will continue to suffer whatever anguish they must. though, as time has passed and they have rewound the sinners more times than they can count, they do think vergilius was wrong about one thing. familiarity with the pain doesn't make it any easier to suffer. each time is as fresh and horrifically brutal as the first, enough to force them to strongly consider ripping free this prosthetic head from their shoulders and just being done with it. but they don't, and they continue to restore the sinners as they must — if this is the one "strength" that they can show, they will do so, and they will do so silently.
they feel oddly nauseous as vergilius places a hand to their back and leans them forward (a bizarre feeling to have once again, considering they no longer eat or get hungry), but it's a feeling that immediately (and blessedly!) begins to release once the majority of the alcohol swimming within their prosthetic's primary chamber is drained out. it's not enough to completely alleviate their anxiety about having it open, but the fact that their thoughts stop drifting and their vision clears and their head feels significantly less heavy is enough to make some of the tension ease out of their body. as much as they try to control it better, they end up falling gracelessly into vergilius' lap, looking perhaps just a little bit like the strangest depiction of the Pietà.
dante still holds onto his coat, though they do so far less desperately now; their other hand takes stock of how much of the alcohol had gotten accidentally poured onto them as well, though they had suspected as much might happen — this hadn't seemed a problem that would be solved without a mess. as it is, some of their shirt and a small portion of their jacket is damp, though it could have been far worse.
they try to reply "verbally," but with their head still open, it just results in the interior workings turning and spinning and working without any actual sound being made. oops. but at least now they can nod, so they do, beginning to brace themself for how nerve-wracking that's going to feel. )
[Vergilius has sometimes wondered what would happen the day Dante got their head back. Of course, they had a reputation, an attitude that was almost as steely as whatever the City threw at them, but now that reputation seems like a far-off dream. The person in his arms seems so far away from that image that he could imagine their original personality being quite a shock to the Sinners. The timid, half-hearted manager being someone else entirely...]
[How would Dante feel about that? Or would Dante not feel anything at all? One person gets replaced with another. The person that was would be long gone.]
[Something twitches in Vergilius's face at that, like a sting to his heart. There's a lot he's steeled himself for. The idea of something (someONE) being replaced like that brings a moment into his head that still is tender like an open wound, and he does his best to shove it down, even as the hand on Dante's back trembles for a moment, before gripping into the fabric to keep it still. A messed up Pietà, indeed.]
...You look like you're feeling better.
[He murmurs - the tension in Dante is still there, but abated. It feels like looking over a patient whose fever has finally broke. Even so, lasting damage is still a major concern, and he moves aside his hand with the towel to squeeze it and drip out some of the fluid to dry it partially before moving in. His scarred hands are as gentle as he can move them, shifting the towel into the innards to dab at the edges of cogs and gears and modules, one by one. The last thing he wants is to jostle anything out of place, but the way things are interlaid and interwoven is complicated enough, and it almost gives him a headache remembering when he was trying to put together the other before after their sudden collapse.]
[He shakes his head as he works, bangs drifting in front of his dull red eyes.]
You really chose something complicated. Seems like you.
( it would be better if they didn't think about that eventuality, but of course they do. dante is not a fool; they are well aware that their existence is like a bubble, ephemeral, ready to burst at just the right disruption of their surface tension. they are only an existence that is in the absence of something else. it's a terrible and lonely thought, and so it's not one that they try to entertain often. what they are now, who they were before, and what they might end up becoming in the future... if they allowed the roots of these thoughts to entangle their mind, they would never be able to focus on anything else, regardless of the very real and present dangers that might await for them in consequence.
there is a base, instinctual part of them that wants to regain their head, their memories, their self. it's reflexive, beyond them; it's as automatic as the heart's will to beat and the lungs' will to breathe. but together with that they know doing so will mean they will experience a death. that is what it would be, isn't it? the "dante" that they are will exist, and then it will not.
it's terrifying. but so many things in this cruel world are.
dante makes their free hand flat, wavering it from side to side in a gesture that indicates that the way they are feeling is "so-so," but not necessarily worse now that most of the liquid is drained. they know they aren't out of the woods, so they don't let themself slide into a false state of relief. but vergilius going so far as to dry certain interior components with the towel... again, there's not much of a way that they can explain it. most of the time, it just causes that horrible, gut-wrenching sensation of wrongness to sharpen, lethal, as if the edge of a blade were pressed firmly to the nape of their neck. this is not easy to deal with, but it is at least in the same vein as the fear and discomfort dante has been fighting for the last few moments, so they mostly weather it with suppressed fidgeting and a tightened grasp on vergilius' coat.
but there are a few pieces... perhaps there's something embedded deep within their subconsciousness that knows that these are more vital, more important than the others. when vergilius draws near to these, the reaction is like boring into a sensitive tooth with a drill. a twinge like a lightning bolt shoots up and down their spine, making them want to twist away instinctually; they force the impulse down, but still one of their heels makes a sharp squeak against the floor of the bus as they draw a knee up, free hand working up towards their open clock-face — but not so far as to interfere (their self-preservation instinct is at least strong enough to prevent that).
not thinking it through, they try to speak, but it just results in the gears and cogs of their head to click and spin uselessly. what would they even have to say? "be careful"? he already knows that. it's not a problem that vergilius can solve. it's just one that dante has to endure.
they try. they try to think of other things. perhaps they even try to think that surviving something like this is better than disappearing entirely.
slowly, vergilius' words sink in. yes, they must have chosen it... it's so hard to remember, but they were under the impression that they had done something to swap their own head out (or something) prior to being attacked in District 4. did they have a particular reason for choosing it? did they know all that it would entail? was it part of some bigger plan?
these thoughts are a good distraction, but a potential headache. instead, with their hand lowered back to their chest, they tap an anxious forefinger on their clavicle and once more spin some of their inner clockwork in a clicking question mark. did it seem like something they would do? just how much did vergilius know about them — about who they were supposed to be, anyway? )
[Replacement. What a word. What a hateful word. And yet, they deal with it every day, what with those shards of identity being interlaid onto each and every sinner. Worlds beyond their understanding intersecting into a single person. He thinks Dante must be blessed not to deal with any of that. But there's still the problem of the Dante of the past, the Dante of the present, and the Dante of the future. And the future feels like it could be here, a thrumming truth ready to be opened, like a set of curtains.]
[Thrumming like these winding gears he sees below him. Perhaps Faust would have a better idea of what this exactly is. All he knows is that one component is some sort of memory module, which is best to be dried but more or less left alone. To "reset" the other back to some base memory-less state would be terrible for everyone involved. Well..maybe not? But the thought of having to bring Dante up to speed makes his head twinge with the echo of a headache as he moves along, trying his best to steel his hand as he feels them twitch and grasp him, like an anchor in a stormy sea.]
[He wonders, offhandedly, if it hurts.]
[...Oh well. They all hurt, in some fashion.]
[A bit more dabs, wipes, and he feels like he's getting close to catching what wet spots he sees. The new noise makes him pause - he glances down, catching the tap of a finger, before that noted red gaze meets where human eyes would likely be located. All he sees is gears, here.]
...You're wondering about this thing? I wouldn't choose it in a million years. I like my head where it is. [Even if his body is augmented past human recognition, to switch out his head like this? Nah. He shifts his hand to slide down the rag over the edge of their frame, like a nurse would wipe off the sweat off a sick man's face.] But you did have a bit of an ego. Probably came with the bigwig status.
( it has been, of course, a temptation to look into the mirror for themself as they had directed the sinners to do so many times before. the inherent dangers in that, of course, are obvious. given the state their mind is in suddenly devoid their previous memories and self, it might be potentially dangerous to them to view alternate versions of themself; either those that might have proceeded down a similar path than before, though perhaps having chosen differently in the events leading up to them donning this prosthetic and being swept up as the manager of the LCB team. and even if they did view versions of themself that were parts of other companies in different parts of the City... what would that matter to them? they need terms as basic as "Fixer" explained to them, so would it not just be more confusing when all of those memories and knowledge of alternate universes came flooding into them?
and then there was the functional danger of it: were dante's memories and thoughts temporarily overwritten by a different version of themself, but still with all of the abilities and authority they have over the sinners... what on earth might happen? there are too many variables. it's too dangerous. with some of the identities they call on their sinners to assume, that's dangerous enough...
no, it's best this way. they... they have to accept that they are best this way.
for the life of them, dante can't remember anything about the moments leading up to when vergilius, charon, and the sinners had come charging through the wilderness in District 4 to save their life. they don't know anything about this prosthetic, about why they had chosen it... they think that it has to have been a practical choice, though maybe their former self really did just have that bombastic of a taste in style? the gears and mechanical parts click once more, moving forward a single iteration, to acknowledge vergilius' comments on the matter.
unlike their guide, they don't believe they have any other parts of themself that have been replaced or augmented... though, then again, they probably wouldn't know, would they? it just makes them wonder why they had made that decision, and why it makes them more convinced it had been done for a purpose.
the cloth wiping over the edge of the clock's frame is an odd sensation, one like being tickled by a stray hair; dante suppresses the impulse to reach up and mess with it.
an ego... they can't imagine it. they are the "executive manager" of this part of the Company, so they acknowledge that they have a certain amount of importance and authority within it, but... everything they have heard about their former self implies they had had all of that and more, and they had worn it with confidence and perhaps even arrogance. as much as is possible in this vulnerable state, dante seems to shrink in on themself as they consider it, wilting as a flower might under severe sun without adequate water.
"am I a disappointment, the way that I am?" is the thing they wish they could ask. or perhaps they don't. they don't want to hear the answer. instead, after a long silence, they try to leave the difficult subject behind, pointing towards their head, still left open.
the lack of existential dread makes dante think that vergilius is close to doing what he can to dry it out. they certainly... feel better, though still not quite calm. but better nonetheless. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
given vague comments made by vergilius and some of the other sinners, dante thinks the person that they were before they lost their head and their memories likely had quite an opinion on this. but in this... reduced state that they are now — they just try to focus on the tasks at hand.
because motivation is a complicated thing for them. want is a complicated thing. at a most base level, they know they are not being given a choice — they had tried once to refuse to rewind time, and all it had earned them was very credible threats of violence that would provide a pain far worse (it's hard to imagine that's even possible, but they do not want to find out). but as they've gotten to know the sinners better and feel more personally responsible for them, they do want to learn to lead and manage them better, both for their shared goal but also for their safety and wellbeing. it would benefit all of them to succeed at securing the Golden Boughs, even if they know precious little of what the Company actually intends on doing with them. and, on a personal level that dante can't even begin to comprehend or put into words, they do want what faust had promised they'd be able to do — to engrave the Aspect. whatever that means.
so they will continue to suffer whatever anguish they must. though, as time has passed and they have rewound the sinners more times than they can count, they do think vergilius was wrong about one thing. familiarity with the pain doesn't make it any easier to suffer. each time is as fresh and horrifically brutal as the first, enough to force them to strongly consider ripping free this prosthetic head from their shoulders and just being done with it. but they don't, and they continue to restore the sinners as they must — if this is the one "strength" that they can show, they will do so, and they will do so silently.
they feel oddly nauseous as vergilius places a hand to their back and leans them forward (a bizarre feeling to have once again, considering they no longer eat or get hungry), but it's a feeling that immediately (and blessedly!) begins to release once the majority of the alcohol swimming within their prosthetic's primary chamber is drained out. it's not enough to completely alleviate their anxiety about having it open, but the fact that their thoughts stop drifting and their vision clears and their head feels significantly less heavy is enough to make some of the tension ease out of their body. as much as they try to control it better, they end up falling gracelessly into vergilius' lap, looking perhaps just a little bit like the strangest depiction of the Pietà.
dante still holds onto his coat, though they do so far less desperately now; their other hand takes stock of how much of the alcohol had gotten accidentally poured onto them as well, though they had suspected as much might happen — this hadn't seemed a problem that would be solved without a mess. as it is, some of their shirt and a small portion of their jacket is damp, though it could have been far worse.
they try to reply "verbally," but with their head still open, it just results in the interior workings turning and spinning and working without any actual sound being made. oops. but at least now they can nod, so they do, beginning to brace themself for how nerve-wracking that's going to feel. )
no subject
[How would Dante feel about that? Or would Dante not feel anything at all? One person gets replaced with another. The person that was would be long gone.]
[Something twitches in Vergilius's face at that, like a sting to his heart. There's a lot he's steeled himself for. The idea of something (someONE) being replaced like that brings a moment into his head that still is tender like an open wound, and he does his best to shove it down, even as the hand on Dante's back trembles for a moment, before gripping into the fabric to keep it still. A messed up Pietà, indeed.]
...You look like you're feeling better.
[He murmurs - the tension in Dante is still there, but abated. It feels like looking over a patient whose fever has finally broke. Even so, lasting damage is still a major concern, and he moves aside his hand with the towel to squeeze it and drip out some of the fluid to dry it partially before moving in. His scarred hands are as gentle as he can move them, shifting the towel into the innards to dab at the edges of cogs and gears and modules, one by one. The last thing he wants is to jostle anything out of place, but the way things are interlaid and interwoven is complicated enough, and it almost gives him a headache remembering when he was trying to put together the other before after their sudden collapse.]
[He shakes his head as he works, bangs drifting in front of his dull red eyes.]
You really chose something complicated. Seems like you.
no subject
there is a base, instinctual part of them that wants to regain their head, their memories, their self. it's reflexive, beyond them; it's as automatic as the heart's will to beat and the lungs' will to breathe. but together with that they know doing so will mean they will experience a death. that is what it would be, isn't it? the "dante" that they are will exist, and then it will not.
it's terrifying. but so many things in this cruel world are.
dante makes their free hand flat, wavering it from side to side in a gesture that indicates that the way they are feeling is "so-so," but not necessarily worse now that most of the liquid is drained. they know they aren't out of the woods, so they don't let themself slide into a false state of relief. but vergilius going so far as to dry certain interior components with the towel... again, there's not much of a way that they can explain it. most of the time, it just causes that horrible, gut-wrenching sensation of wrongness to sharpen, lethal, as if the edge of a blade were pressed firmly to the nape of their neck. this is not easy to deal with, but it is at least in the same vein as the fear and discomfort dante has been fighting for the last few moments, so they mostly weather it with suppressed fidgeting and a tightened grasp on vergilius' coat.
but there are a few pieces... perhaps there's something embedded deep within their subconsciousness that knows that these are more vital, more important than the others. when vergilius draws near to these, the reaction is like boring into a sensitive tooth with a drill. a twinge like a lightning bolt shoots up and down their spine, making them want to twist away instinctually; they force the impulse down, but still one of their heels makes a sharp squeak against the floor of the bus as they draw a knee up, free hand working up towards their open clock-face — but not so far as to interfere (their self-preservation instinct is at least strong enough to prevent that).
not thinking it through, they try to speak, but it just results in the gears and cogs of their head to click and spin uselessly. what would they even have to say? "be careful"? he already knows that. it's not a problem that vergilius can solve. it's just one that dante has to endure.
they try. they try to think of other things. perhaps they even try to think that surviving something like this is better than disappearing entirely.
slowly, vergilius' words sink in. yes, they must have chosen it... it's so hard to remember, but they were under the impression that they had done something to swap their own head out (or something) prior to being attacked in District 4. did they have a particular reason for choosing it? did they know all that it would entail? was it part of some bigger plan?
these thoughts are a good distraction, but a potential headache. instead, with their hand lowered back to their chest, they tap an anxious forefinger on their clavicle and once more spin some of their inner clockwork in a clicking question mark. did it seem like something they would do? just how much did vergilius know about them — about who they were supposed to be, anyway? )
no subject
[Thrumming like these winding gears he sees below him. Perhaps Faust would have a better idea of what this exactly is. All he knows is that one component is some sort of memory module, which is best to be dried but more or less left alone. To "reset" the other back to some base memory-less state would be terrible for everyone involved. Well..maybe not? But the thought of having to bring Dante up to speed makes his head twinge with the echo of a headache as he moves along, trying his best to steel his hand as he feels them twitch and grasp him, like an anchor in a stormy sea.]
[He wonders, offhandedly, if it hurts.]
[...Oh well. They all hurt, in some fashion.]
[A bit more dabs, wipes, and he feels like he's getting close to catching what wet spots he sees. The new noise makes him pause - he glances down, catching the tap of a finger, before that noted red gaze meets where human eyes would likely be located. All he sees is gears, here.]
...You're wondering about this thing? I wouldn't choose it in a million years. I like my head where it is. [Even if his body is augmented past human recognition, to switch out his head like this? Nah. He shifts his hand to slide down the rag over the edge of their frame, like a nurse would wipe off the sweat off a sick man's face.] But you did have a bit of an ego. Probably came with the bigwig status.
no subject
and then there was the functional danger of it: were dante's memories and thoughts temporarily overwritten by a different version of themself, but still with all of the abilities and authority they have over the sinners... what on earth might happen? there are too many variables. it's too dangerous. with some of the identities they call on their sinners to assume, that's dangerous enough...
no, it's best this way. they... they have to accept that they are best this way.
for the life of them, dante can't remember anything about the moments leading up to when vergilius, charon, and the sinners had come charging through the wilderness in District 4 to save their life. they don't know anything about this prosthetic, about why they had chosen it... they think that it has to have been a practical choice, though maybe their former self really did just have that bombastic of a taste in style? the gears and mechanical parts click once more, moving forward a single iteration, to acknowledge vergilius' comments on the matter.
unlike their guide, they don't believe they have any other parts of themself that have been replaced or augmented... though, then again, they probably wouldn't know, would they? it just makes them wonder why they had made that decision, and why it makes them more convinced it had been done for a purpose.
the cloth wiping over the edge of the clock's frame is an odd sensation, one like being tickled by a stray hair; dante suppresses the impulse to reach up and mess with it.
an ego... they can't imagine it. they are the "executive manager" of this part of the Company, so they acknowledge that they have a certain amount of importance and authority within it, but... everything they have heard about their former self implies they had had all of that and more, and they had worn it with confidence and perhaps even arrogance. as much as is possible in this vulnerable state, dante seems to shrink in on themself as they consider it, wilting as a flower might under severe sun without adequate water.
"am I a disappointment, the way that I am?" is the thing they wish they could ask. or perhaps they don't. they don't want to hear the answer. instead, after a long silence, they try to leave the difficult subject behind, pointing towards their head, still left open.
the lack of existential dread makes dante think that vergilius is close to doing what he can to dry it out. they certainly... feel better, though still not quite calm. but better nonetheless. )